The Ghost of the Densen House
by Tiikeria
Summary: The unkown story of the Densen Family and the last night of Alexander Shepard as told by Ron.


**Title: **The Ghost of the Densen House  
**Author: **Me! (**artimispotter** for those who don't know)  
**Rating: **PG  
**Summary:** The unkown story of the Densen Family and the last night of Alexander Shepard as told by Ron.  
**Disclaimer: **If I owned Harry Potter, Harry would have been with the right Weasley by now.  
**A/N: **A Potterized version of a story I wrote for my creative writing class. Un-Beta'd. 

"Do you believe in ghosts? Well, do you? Don't roll your eyes at me! Yes or no? Yes? Good, then you're going to like this. Take a seat, mate, and listen to this story. Dad told it to us every Halloween when we were growing up. What? Why are you looking at me like that? Just shut up and listen.

"At one time a huge mansion stood on Stoatshead Hill. Nothing's left now, but when it was there, it was the pride of Ottery St. Catchpole. Supposedly, it was the most beautiful house in all of Devon. Hey, I didn't make this up, mate. Anyway, the house was built years before by a bloke called Lord Densen. His great-great-great-great grandson was the last Densen to live in the house. What happened you wonder? What do you mean 'not really'? Work with me mate!

"Like I was saying, one morning when Bartholomew Densen didn't come into town like he did every morning the town officer went to the house and found he and his wife, Camilla, and their son, Nathaniel, dead in the library. Their son had been hung from the chandelier by a rope, while Camilla had been tied to a chair and stabbed repeatedly. Old Bart, though, was found dead at her feet. It was said that he died of grief at the loss of his wife and son, but I think the knife in the chest was what did it.

"They never found the killer. Smart bloke he was. That or the law was too lazy to find him.

"After that the house fell into despair. Paint was peeling on the outside, the gardens were overgrown. That is, until a man named Alexander Shepard came into town. He bought the house cheap, regardless of knowing its gruesome history. What was once an eyesore to the village was again turned into the jewel it used to be.

"I'm just telling it like Dad did, if you have any complaints then you tell it. Thought so.

"Everyone loved Alexander. He was smart, funny and handsome. Hey, kinda like me! No need for violence!

"All the ladies flirted with him, the elder men enjoyed his stories of London and Bristol, and the children loved hearing his ghost stories. Little did Alexander know that he was about to live one of the very stories he loved to tell to the kids.

"One night after one such day, Alexander settled down in the library nursing brandy and his favorite book, _The Hound of the Baskervilles_. The fire before him crackled merrily as he turned the pages of the well-read volume. The only other sound in the cavernous room was the ticking of the mantle clock and the occasional clink of the crystal glass on the table as Alexander set it down. In Alexander's world, everything was perfect. Except he forgot an important thing; that night was the anniversary of the Densen murders and he was sitting in the very room their lives ended in.

"Outside a massive storm brewed, just like the one on the night of the murders. What? I didn't mention that? Well, there was a storm the night they died. So, outside lightning cut through the ominous, grey clouds and thunder destroyed the once calm summer night with its roaring. Alexander looked up as a particularly powerful clap of thunder rattled the enormous, soaring windows in their panes. The room was silent as he watched the windows wearily. All at once he noticed just how silent the room was and looked towards the brass and ivory clock that had belonged to the builder of the house, Lord Densen. The clock had stopped at 10:49. Bemused, Alexander rose from his comfortable wing backed chair and inspected the clock. Silently he stared at the glass that protected the ornate hands from dangers. His eyes widened as he spotted a figure in the spotless glass. He spun around expecting to see a young boy behind him, instead finding nothing but empty air.

"More alert than before, he settled back into his chair and pretended to read his book. His head shot up as he heard the floorboards creak behind him. He was aware he had no escape if a thief had come to call as the only exit was in the direction of the creak. Getting up his resolve he boldly spoke, 'What is your name, caller, for I wish to know.'

"The voice that answered was that of a young boy, 'My name, sir, is Nathaniel Densen and my father says you're trespassing on our land. My father doesn't like trespassers.'

"Alexander had stood and turned during the boy's words, but had stopped short as he caught sight of the figure before him. A pure white, transparent boy, noose still around his neck. Alexander stepped back in fright and felt a cold presence behind him. He turned slowly and came face to face with Camilla Densen with silvery blood dripping from her many stab wounds. He was panicking now as he backed away from the supernatural beings before him.

"'Who dares trespass on my land!' a voice behind Alexander demanded. He fell to his knees; fear made them weak. Tears ran down his face as he begged for his life.

"'Camilla, do take Nathaniel from here as I deal with this trespasser.' Bartholomew Densen requested of his wife. Those would be the last words Alexander would hear.

"Alexander's screams of fear were loud enough to make the dogs in the village howl and whimper in sympathy, but it wasn't enough to wake the village and save the man from his horrible fate.

"The village was woken a few hours later by cries of fire. The house burned to a few glowing embers. Alexander's body was never found, though they searched long and hard for it.

"Next time you go up Stoatshead Hill you might want to watch out, as Bartholomew Densen doesn't take kindly to trespassers."

Ron grinned at his wide-eyed best mate. Harry could face down Voldemort, but ghost stories scared him.

"Don't worry, mate, I'll protect you from that mean old Densen," Ron said as he wrapped his arm around Harry's waist.

"You bloody well should, you git," Harry muttered as he settled comfortably into Ron's side.

"You know you love me. C'mon say it. Say you love me."

"Do I have to?" Harry whined playfully.

Ron mock glared at him.

Harry sighed, then leaned up and pressed his lips to Ron's in a chaste kiss. After a few seconds Harry pulled back and rested his forehead against Ron's.

"I love you," Harry murmured.

"I love you, too."

Harry sighed contentedly before a mischievous gleam that Ron normally associated with the twins appeared in his eyes.  
As Harry jumped up unexpectedly and took off towards The Burrow he yelled over his shoulder, "Last one to The Burrow has to sleep with Bartholomew Densen!"

Ron grinned and jumped up and chased after his best mate, eager to get revenge that would be enjoyable to both of them.


End file.
